Vendetta Topper
by KJay99
Summary: What would happen if Pete and Myka took a little bit longer to get to Artie after HG found him? Oh- I also used more of those artifacts on Ivan's table on the old man and I play more with HG and who she is and what she does and does not do. Descriptions of violence and torture.
1. A Secluded Place

**So, those of you who have read my work probably know me by now. This story is in line with my standard. **

**This story assumes that everyone has seen the episode "Vendetta" and remembers most of it. **

**Of not, here's the quick and dirty: Artie has been drawn to Russia by his past contact, only to be kidnapped by his former contact's son. The son, Ivan, (Evan? I went with Ivan) rapped Artie on the head, chained him up and started torturing him with artifacts. Myka, Pete and HG are trying to find him.**

**So- after all of that, I was left to wonder... **

**What would happen if Pete and Myka took just a little longer to get to Artie after HG found him?**

**Description of torture. Please use your own judgement.**

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><p>In the dank, dirty warehouse, Artie's screams filled the vast space. The neat, European youth stood before the shackled older man confidently. Ivan, in a leather jacket, gripped Torquemada's chain and pulled it taut invoking another guttural cry of pain. Each outburst from the warehouse supervisor satisfied Ivan's memory of his dead father a little bit more. The young man's life devotion was being fulfilled; he was torturing his father's persecutor, his so called "friend" who betrayed him into jail and death, taking him away from his family and from Ivan's own childhood.<p>

Ivan's long hair, pulled back neatly, emphasized his eyes that fired with his own pain. There was plenty of it in the room and Ivan's pain mixed along with the tortured agent's. He let the chain go slack in his hands, giving Artie time to catch his breath and his own heart beat to settle back to normal. Artie recovered quickly, breathing heavily and sweating, but looking Ivan in the eye.

"Ivan…" Artie said in between catching his breath. "Stop. Please, you don't know what you're doing…. what that's doing to you." The agent could see Ivan's eyes hardening each time he used the chain and knew it was a side effect of the artifact.

"It is not what it is doing to me, but to you." Ivan replied coldly in his heavy Russian accent. He had sacrificed everything that he had in his broken life to get here, with this man, in this place. Nothing else mattered to him. There was nothing for Ivan beyond this moment. The young man calmly stepped closer to the old man restrained in between the building's support beams. "I want you to know what I went through after you took my father." He ignored Artie shaking his head. "I want you to suffer like he suffered. Away from his family. Dying. Alone." Ivan's eyes narrowed and his nose flared and twitched at the raw pain that he lived with for as long as he could remember.

"Ivan, it was your government. That wasn't me, I came back, I triiiied-" His voice was taken from him as he grunted against the pulling effects of the artifact chain when Ivan pulled it tight. Knowing about the artifact, Artie was able to counter the most permanent damage by balling his fists and therefore protecting his fingers from dislocating, but couldn't prevent the pain spiking through his body from the artifact stretching every joint and tendon.

Pain streaked up Artie's legs and came out of him in a scream that mixed with the dust floating in the abandoned factory. He felt a pop in his foot and knew that his bones were being dislocated. He focused through the noise of his body and tightened his feet and fists against the pulling. Artie squeezed his eyes in the effort and his dislocated foot sent fire up his leg in protest.

As quickly as it started, the pulling stopped. The agent gasped and swallowed after his screams made his throat raw. He looked up to see the young man that looked so much like his old friend, Alexi, but for his eyes. Ivan's eyes were involved with in his own pain. Artie caught the man's raw injury hiding just behind his dark brown eyes before Ivan hid it and looked at him.

Artie knew that he needed to get at that hurt in Ivan. It was his the only way out for him. "Ivan, you father…" he breathed and blinked away sweat dripping in his eyes. "Alexi, he wouldn't want this..."

Ivan's eyes hardened. "To confront his betrayer? You're wrong. He would want this for you." He smiled a sick, sweet smile.

"Not for me…" The light reflected in Artie's brown eyes when he looked up at the taller, young man in sympathy. "He wouldn't want this for _you_."

"For me… How dare you think that you know what my father would want for his son!" He made the older man stop talking by giving the chain a jerk.

Artie clenched his jaw, grimacing at the shot of pain when his right wrist dislocated from the jerk sent through the artifact. He could tell that he was on the right track with Ivan by his reaction. Artie knew Ivan's father far better than Ivan did. If he could only get through to his friend's son, Artie thought that there was hope for the young man that was in so much pain before him.

"Ivan." He groaned out.

"No." Ivan was to calm and methodical. Artie knew he was too calm; the chain was taking him over. "No more talk from you." Ivan gripped the ends of the chain and slowly pulled it taut.

Artie gulped a breath, held it and tensed his hands and feet against the chain. But the artifact's powers slowly pried his fingers open. Tendons in his back were strained to the brink, shooting pain up his nerves. Artie heard himself scream, his breath leaving him involuntarily when his legs, neck and shoulders were stretched out by the artifact.

Ivan found the perfect balance of force in the chain and held it there, keeping the agent trapped. Suddenly he didn't care about the man before him anymore. His own torture for the last 30 years was all that mattered. He pulled just slightly more causing the old man to jerk and scream in agony. His scream burned Ivan's ears but it was like a salve on his old wound. Seeing this man, who had an attachment to his father that he would never have, to see this man hurt as Ivan hurt, it made his wounds seem less in comparison.

Just before he thought that the old man might pass out, Ivan let the chain go slack. Artie fell when released by the artifact, held up by the chained shackles around his wrists. His chest heaved as his breath came in great gulps. The physical strain had sweat soaking his dark green shirt, turning it black around his neck.

Confidently, Ivan stepped back from his prisoner. Artie struggled to maintain control over his injured body. His back muscles were starting to seize up and he had to focus to overcome the pain burning in his foot. A whimper escaped him and he couldn't hide a tremor from shaking the shackle around his dislocated right wrist but he defiantly raised his head and got his feet to hold him up again.

The youth's lip curled up as a sickly sweet smirk crawled over Ivan's face. His head tilted with a bit of admiration for the older man's tenacity. "Good." He said, seeing Artie stand.

Very calmly, Ivan walked over to the table holding the assorted artifacts that chose to bring along. He slowly set down Torquemada's chain on the table. Ivan could feel something different in himself. He remembered Artie's words of how the artifact "hardens your heart" but he felt nothing hard, just emptiness. Ivan thought that perhaps the old man was right and he was being affected by the artifacts as well as his prisoner. Ivan blinked hard to clear his thoughts. His eyes focused on his table of artifacts. A statue of the Russian General Samsonov supposedly transported people directly into the Russian Second Army during their loss at the Battle of Tennenberg, but Ivan had never seen it work. Instead, the hardened youth's hand reached out to carefully pick up a child's set of toy jacks. A single jack sat quietly in Ivan's gloved hand for a moment, then it briefly glistened a deep green sheen. Ivan could somehow sense it's power, and then he felt it himself.

Ivan looked over his shoulder at Artie. He turned and revealed the single jack in his hand.

Artie gasped. "Not the jacks…"

Ivan's lip curled. His boots clicked as he descended on the old man.


	2. The Jacks

**Description of torture. Please use your own judgement.**

**Thanks to those who have favorited and followed. Especially to those who have reviewed, ok, to Briaka. **

**Lets see what those Jacks can do and why Artie is so scared of them.**

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><p>Artie gasped. "Not the jacks…"<p>

Ivan's lip curled. His boots clicked as he descended on the old man.

"No… no. Ivan… still time, there's still time." Artie muttered to himself. He lacked the energy to make his voice go much further. It wasn't until Ivan got closer that he could hear the agent muttering about time.

A burning desire to see the old man crushed welled up in Ivan. He could see the suffering in Artie and it was satisfying Ivan's long held desire for justice for his father and his family. "No time for you. You cannot save yourself." He hissed at Artie as he drew near.

Artie's brown eyes fearfully watched the jack in Ivan's hand. His gaze flicked to the youth, "Not me Ivan. There's still time for _you._ Don't… don't do this."

Seeing Artie beg made Ivan's lips part with a hint of a smile. "For me? Yes, there is time. But not for you." Ivan's intense black eyes found and held Artie's gaze. He showed him the jack in his hand. "Do you know what this is?"

Artie stared at Ivan. "I've heard that the jacks can break someone's soul."

"A soul smasher, yes." Ivan said.

"Not just me Ivan, but you too." Artie tried again to appeal to Ivan. "Put it down. It's not too late for you. Artifacts like that- they only hurt. I dedicated my life to capturing artifacts and keeping them safe; away from people. That's why I had to stop what I was doing with your father."

"YOU betrayed my father!" Ivan yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Artie. The agent could see a sheen in Ivan's eyes of an unnatural green color and he knew that the jacks were affecting Ivan, even through his gloved hand.

"You left him to die; took him away from his family to rot in jail while you stayed free." Artie tried to deny the accusations yet again, but Ivan cut him off. He held out the jack by Artie's cuffed hand. "Take it."

Artie pulled his hand away as much as he could with the chains.

In a flash, Ivan back handed the agent across his cheek, forcing his head sharply sideways. Artie coughed to deal with the stinging pain. A red mark started to swell on his cheek below the dried blood that fell from his head wound that he got when Ivan captured him.

Artie glared up at Ivan who offered the artifact again. The jack reflected a strange green when the light caught it, betraying the power that the artifact waited to unleash. Artie straightened up to face his captor.

"Take it." Ivan growled threateningly.

Artie backed up as much as he could as his answer. Ivan's eyes grew hard. The effects of Torquemada's Chain made it easy for Ivan to drive his fist into Artie's side without remorse. The agent groaned and bent over. With the jack in his right fist, Ivan's left lashed out, beating the defenseless agent. The Russian let himself satisfy his desire to punish his father's betrayer with his own hands. His intense sense of loss was somewhat lessened by physically hitting Artie. Ivan took from Artie, which made them somehow more equal; Ivan not as less. He punched Artie again, savoring the pained noises that were produced. That was Ivan's payment for all that he was owed, but it was just the start. The old man groaned and coughed, unable to stop Ivan or escape his wrath. Ivan hit him more than was needed to make Artie stop resisting, enjoying his position of power, cashing in on the agent's pain, and furious that the he was still resisting after all that he was guilty of.

Ivan caught his breath for a moment and regarded the man before him with disdain. Artie coughed and struggled. Perhaps it was the jack affecting him, but Ivan's sense of sadness and loss wasn't satisfied, it grew.

"You will take it!" Ivan cried. He ripped Artie's shirt open at the neck, exposing his upper chest and slapped the jack onto his skin. Ivan threw Artie's shirt and jacket over the jack then made a fist and hammered it in. Artie cringed, then cried out when the jack pierced the skin by his collarbone. The young man held it there, watching the effect that it might have on his prisoner. Artie groaned, breathing heavy from the abuse. A second passed before he blinked and swallowed hard.

"Ivan…" Artie croaked, but the youth only snarled and pushed the jack in harder. The agent bit off a yell; then, Artie's eyes reflected a green sheen. His face seemed to change. Darkness started spreading from the corners of his eyes. Sadness and pain grew in Artie as the artifact jack took hold of him and started fracturing his soul. His face reflected the change, especially his eyes which showed the sadness and emptiness, reflecting an unnatural green color where the black of his eyes used to be.

Ivan saw the change. All of the fight seemed to leave Artie for the moment. The agent stood there, dazed and hollow. His eyes flashed a metallic green right before he cringed and tensed up from the pain caused by the jack chipping off a piece of his soul. Ivan kept pressing the jack into his struggling prisoner, his hand on Artie's shoulder, keeping the artifact in contact. A clenched jaw was the only sign of emotion from the intense youth, his eyes flashing at seeing Artie suffering, but still calm. Long seconds later, Artie was released. He whimpered, letting his head hang down, huffing and drained.

The artifact lived up to the reputation that Ivan had heard, but he was still unsatisfied. His heart was a smoldering rock of hate. Hurting Artie only doused it for a moment before the hate fired up, needing to be smothered again. The Russian left Artie and walked back to his table of artifacts. He had five more jacks.


	3. Jacks and Families

**Ok peeps. First off, thanks to those who have read, commented and edited. Thanks to Lynnutte, and to Briaka. **

**This scene describes torture, and has hints of suicides, and very small spoilers for the very last episode. Please use your judgement before you read.**

**Lets get back to the story and see what happens. I hope you are surprised, and enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

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><p>Artie licked his dry lips and tried to find motivation to move. It felt as if all happiness was taken from him, never to return. From somewhere within him, he knew that he was being affected by the artifact jack, but a growing part of him didn't care. The agent leaned against one of the thick metal shafts that he was chained to. The left side of his chest was spreading out fire like pain and his whole body hurt, especially his foot and wrist from being dislocated by Torquemada's chain, but all of that was trumped by a sense of depression that the jack gave him. It was the growing despair more than the pain that kept the agent's head hanging down and him leaning on the I-beam as if that was all that was keeping him standing.<p>

Amid the noise of his body, Artie knew that he needed to focus on artifact jacks if he was going to have a chance to fight against it. He recalled the rumor from years ago that they were created when their owner, a young boy, was killed by a stray bullet while playing with them in 1980's Russian Chechnya. The boy's mother rushed to her son and held him as he died. It was said that her soul was shattered and the jacks somehow obtained the ability to break souls and take pieces of them from people from then on. Remembering the back story helped the agent. His chest felt like some important piece was removed, leaving a vacuum of nothing in its place but he focused on the history of the artifact. The jacks were made by a mother's loss of her child so he focused on his children; his son and his daughter, Claudia.

Thinking of Claudia, Artie easily remembered her face, her endearing snark, and how she attached herself to him, even though he fought it at first. Her red hair was streaked with blue, _no, it was green now, _he thought. But that was only one of many outward signs of the lively character that he loved. A corner of Artie's mouth tugged up thinking of Claudia's latest invention, some sort of heat sensor that she ingeniously employed to control the busted thermostat in Leena's oven that he had yet to fix. She was really a genius, worthy of so much more than being locked away in a rusty building in the middle of no where. HIs thoughts went to how he had brought Claudia with him, which was not the best place for her. She was so talented yet was wasting her life away at the Warehouse, just like he wasted so many years of his. Artie shook his head, trying to stop himself from thinking negatively. He had a lot of guilt from things that he had done, including not saving Ivan's father, but he knew that those kinds of thoughts were what the jacks would feed on. He needed to keep himself positive or at least as positive as he could while being chained and tortured.

But, Artie acknowledged that all was not as bad as it looked. His agents, Pete and Myka were certainly looking for him by now. They were his best agents in a long time so he knew that if he could just hold on that they would find him- eventually. Artie cringed at and pulled his elbow down to help brace his damaged side. He just needed to hold out, stall Ivan if possible, try to get through to the kid- to the adult. Another small bit of hope to Artie was that he had the smallest bit of luck. Ivan took most of the contents of his pockets while Artie was dazed from the blow to the head when he was captured. But, Ivan missed a small bit of metal with a twist at the end in the front pocket of his pants. It was a lock pick. If Artie could only reach his pocket, then he could release himself from the simple cuffs around his wrists. The problem was that each of Artie's hands were shackled, not allowing him to reach his pocket, let alone the other cuff to unlock them. He sighed as he realized how close he was to freedom, but still how hopeless his situation was. He was trapped, and hurt, and Ivan was looking at more ways to torture him. His attention would return to Artie in a few seconds and there was nothing that the agent could do. Artie groaned softly, all of his pains leaping up at once and feeling a dark sensation over come him.

He sighed and willed himself to focus. "Claudia." he mumbled, thinking about his surrogate daughter again. "Myka, Pete." The names helped him keep his thoughts away from the dread that he felt. He knew that he had to fight.

The agent opened his unfocused eyes wide, forcing his body to move. His instincts were telling him to do something, anything. Artie raised his head and looked at his left hand, still chained to the pillar. He pulled uselessly, but found if he reached down, he could grab his jacket at his shoulder. Leaning to the left, Artie tugged at his coat with his fingertips until the jack fell out of his shirt and to the floor. The agent kicked the artifact, getting it as far away from himself as possible.

The distance did help him. Artie's eyes cleared. He felt a stream of blood fall down his chest from where the jack punctured him, but he could think better with the artifact away. Deep inside, he felt like a tiny piece of him was missing. His eyes flicked as he reasoned that the jack took a bit of his soul with it. He made a mental note to get it back.

Ivan heard the jack fall then skitter across the floor of the building. His black eyes flashed hatred at Artie. Looking at his artifacts with renewed fever, Ivan carefully collected the rest of the artifact jacks in his gloved hand. Just being near the artifacts affected him. Ivan could feel himself feel hopeless, even though he was fulfilling his lifelong goal of revenge. Steeling himself, he walked back to his prisoner. Ivan sneered when Artie's eyes filled with fear at seeing not one but five jacks in Ivan's hand.

In his thick accent, Ivan drolled out as he approached, "The time for you to pay, for what you did to my father, is now. I will break you as they broke him. As he suffered, so you too will suffer. As he died- you will die."

_Think!_ "Ivan! Alexi, he- you know he loved you."

Unimpressed with Artie's predictably desperate move, Ivan flatly ordered, "Do not talk about my father."

Forcing his eyes off of the artifact jacks coming towards him, Artie said, "But he did. I knew him Ivan."

Ivan eyes were flat, unmoved, except for a slight green sheen shinning from deep with in the black of his eyes. "You lie to save yourself."

"But he did." Artie said as quickly as his pains would allow. It was difficult for him to talk too much, but the agent dug deep. He had to keep Ivan from using the rest of those jacks. "How did I know your name?" Ivan blinked for the briefest of moments. Artie continued quickly, "He spoke of you- of his family. But, but you were just a baby-"

"When you betrayed him." Ivan finished for him.

Artie shook his head. "No, when your government took him. Ivan I came back for him."

Ivan cut him off with a yell. "You stopped!" He quickly put in place his far too calm mask. He shoved his finger into Artie's chest, making him flinch. "You. You worked with him and you stopped."

Artie desperately wanted Ivan to understand. "Ivan, Ivan I had to! Once I found out what... it was just a matter of time before something- an, an artifact affected him." Artie nodded at Ivan. "Like it's affecting you."

Ivan tilted his head and returned the nod with spite. "And you."

Artie had to agree. "And me. Ivan they're dangerous! You need to stop, just... just stop." he pleaded.

"You'd like that." Ivan said. It took just a second for Artie to figure out that Ivan still wasn't accepting the danger to himself. Ivan took a step closer to Artie, coming uncomfortably close. "Just stop. Like you did." The intense youth stared at Artie. "Stopped. Without your partner... you stopped." Ivan eased back, having Artie's full attention. "Then you- went home!" Ivan's eyebrows went up with a small shrug, like it was not a big deal. "You went home. Lived a good life." He motioned to Artie's greying head of curls. "Got old."

Artie didn't like where Ivan was going. He started shaking his head, thinking desperately of something to change his perspective, but Ivan continued. The Russian's expression grew hard. "While my family suffered. You put my father in danger and let him rot in jail. Away from his family, from his children."

Artie perked up. "Children? He had childr-" He thought hard, but the memory didn't come back to him. "Alexi had another child?"

The hard mask was still on Ivan, shielding his feelings. "I had a sister."

"A sister... wait- had?"

Ivan paced as he slowly spoke, walking around his prisoner. "After our father was taken, life was hard. My mother she- well, she did her best, but it was not an easy life. Sometimes, she went hungry to give us bread to eat." He paused in his slow speech. "I survived. My sister... she did not take it so well." He rounded Artie, coming to face him again.

The agent swallowed hard, he was glad that Ivan was talking, but he didn't like what he was saying. Ivan weighed the artifact jacks in his hand as he spoke, his eyes softly glistening a faint green. "One day, when I was still young, my mother could not find my sister. It was winter, I remember, the snow was not so thick yet." Ivan stared into Artie's eyes, wanting to see the older man's reaction. "They followed her footprints through the forest and into the lake- but not out."

Artie was breathless, rattled by the news of tragedy in his old friend's family. Ivan took a small step back. He was satisfied that he was heaping guilt on his prisoner. He could see the emotion in Artie's eyes, how they moistened at the news, how they were clouded by misery and he was glad for it. A spark of sympathy emerged in Ivan for Artie when he realized that after hours of torture this man still felt sorry for Ivan's family. It was enough to make Ivan turn away from his prisoner to hide his conflicting emotions. Remembering his sister and mother flared the hurt and self pity he had for his own broken and ruined life.

"How old was she?" Artie asked in a quiet voice.

Back still turned, Ivan replied. "She was fifteen."

"Ivan I'm- I'm so sorry." Artie almost whispered.

When the youth turned back, his hard mask had returned. Torquemada's chain helped Ivan hide his vulnerability again. His soul was corrupted to the point of not being able to forgive. Ivan was too hurt, he had come too far, and with the artifacts help, he did not care. The jacks flared in his open hand, drawing Artie's eye to them. A darkness seemed to shadow Ivan's face. The youth sighed a small moan.

Ivan breathed. "You should be sorry."

Artie saw the pain in Ivan being buried beneath his fierce anger. He suddenly realized that was where Ivan was going, that he viewed this as a possible last mission, the possible end of Ivan's own life. "No, no Ivan. Your sister, it doesn't have to be like that for you!"

Ivan shook his head as he approached, he gripped the artifact jacks in his gloved hand, preparing to use them. Ivan's pace and emotions rose as he neared. "But it does." He motioned to the abandoned building. "This is all that matters now." Ivan glanced at the chains holding Artie. "This is all there is for you."

Artie shook his head and backed up from Ivan, but shackled and chained, he got nowhere. With his family's memory in his mind and revenge in his heart, Ivan grabbed Artie's shirt and ripped it open, tearing the buttons off. Not giving his prisoner time to react, Ivan quickly pressed his handful of jacks to the agent's exposed chest, pressing all of them in over Artie's heart. The agent struggled and protested uselessly, tearing the skin at his wrists in his attempt to get free, ignoring the burning pain from his wrist.

Five artifact jacks over took Artie at once. He threw his head back, eyes reflecting a solid green sheen. Pain and loss and hopelessness overwhelmed him. The agent used his reason to combat the effects, thinking of his family, his agents, but the memories were colorless, devoid of life and emotional connection. Artie barely breathed as his face slowly became sullen. Dark rings grew under his eyes, until they shadowed his face. He jerked, trying to get free but Ivan pressed the jacks in more forcefully. They bit into his skin, pricking and sending small bits of blood down his chest. Artie's eyes flashed green and he felt his soul break. Guilt, self loathing, hopelessness and despair all flooded into him and out. The emotional pain that tore through him was so great that he cried out a long, gut wrenching cry of pitiful despair.

Suddenly, a grinding sound echoed through the old factory. Ivan whipped his head around in surprise, causing the jacks to fall to the floor. Artie gasped and nearly fell. He raised his head at the noise, thinking that Pete and Myka had somehow found him. He didn't know what Ivan would do now that he knew they were there, but his eyes went wide at seeing his raw anger surface. His fear was justified. As Ivan turned back to Artie he wound up and slammed his fist into the side of the agent's face. Artie's head snapped back and sideways. His knees buckled as he lost consciousness. Artie came to rest twisted and hanging from the cuffs as Ivan grabbed an artifact and ran to confront the intruders.

The jacks lay scattered around the old agent's slack form. Each one randomly reflected green as they activated, making the agent's unconscious body twitch from the effects. If one were to look, a faint green color was drawn from Artie with each jack. The darkness deepened under his eyes and his face drained of color, except for the dark red of blood coming from his newly split lip. The sound of Ivan's footsteps faded and the abandoned building became silent around the trapped agent. A harsh light from above illuminated his greying head of curls, shadowing his outstretched arms and bowed face as he hung by the chains around his arms. Stillness settled over the lifeless scene, the only motion coming from the faint glow of the artifact jacks activating.


	4. A Hero on the Scene

**Thanks to those who are gracious enough to let me bounce ideas off of them. Thanks for reading guys. Any and all feedback appreciated. **

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><p>The silent, abandoned building echoed footsteps again. This time they came from the other direction, and were produced by smaller boots than Ivan wore. HG Wells jogged down the cat walk hallway, keeping an eye out for Artie and his captor. She desperately wanted to find Artie before Myka and Pete; hopefully do something heroic in front of him. That would get her back into the Warehouse. If she could get Artie, her biggest critic, in debt to her, that would remove the biggest obstacle to getting her reinstated. The possibility of making her critic her ally gave Wells added motivation as she searched the building.<p>

Then, she caught sight of something different. HG ducked to better see the glimpse of filtered sunlight hitting an earth colored shape that nearly camouflaged with the rest of the abandoned building. Her hopes all seemed to rise to her throat, only controlled by sheer will of the author. She drew her slim pistol and surveyed the area quickly for Artie's captor. Not hearing any motion nor sound at all, HG crept forward to descend the stairs that led down Artie.

The time traveling author glanced around nervously. Once she was down the stairs she was exposed; she knew it and she didn't like it. She called out to Artie in a harsh whisper, hoping for information. When she looked at him again, it was then that she saw him hanging limply from chains attached to thick metal support beams. HG cursed silently. It was just her luck that Artie was already dead. But she had to make sure. She knew it was her only chance at that point.

"Artie!" She called as loud as she dared as she looked around, fearful of alerting his captor of her presence, but also watching for any signs of life from the Warehouse supervisor.

"Artie!" HG whispered and saw Artie jerk slightly. Or perhaps her active imagination was showing her what she hoped to see. But, it coincided with a tiny reflection of green from the floor.

HG cleared the room of danger. Not hearing a response from Artie made her fear rise. As she approached, she saw that not only did he not move, but his head hung down lifelessly. Dread rose as she approached the man who held her hopes of rejoining the Warehouse. If Artie had already been killed, then she missed her chance to be prove herself, moreover, she was sure that she would somehow blamed. That's just how it seemed to work in the Warehouse lately. HG briefly panicked at the thought of life on the run, her eyes automatically scanning the area for any threats. Just as quickly, she took a breath and refocused on the present.

Lips parted in anticipation, HG quietly circled to the front of the captured man. Her face fell in disappointment at seeing him. Artie looked terrible. There was fresh blood falling into his beard from a split lip, and a wound on his head went untreated for so long that blood from it was already dried down the right side of his face. His eyes were closed with dark circles under them and his skin was so pale it was alarming. His shirt was stained and ripped and his wrists were swollen and bleeding from the shackles that he was hanging from. Fairly sure that he already died what looked to be a painful death, Wells tucked her gun into her belt. If this was only a corpse, then his captor was probably already gone and she was too late. To make sure, the ex-agent knelt down to check his pulse.

Artie felt a thin, cold finger pressed against his neck. The chill jerked Artie awake, which he immediately regretted. Pain came from every joint and his head spun so badly that he had to close his eyes again. A raven haired woman was a foot in front from him, sighing with relief that he was alive. Alarm leapt up in him when the last person he expected responded to the surprise in his eyes. He tried to speak too fast and it came out as a whimper. Wells hissed at him to shush him. She glanced around nervously realizing that if he was still alive, then his captor was likely still nearby.

The thin woman stood and went to unlock his shackles. Artie had to force his eyes open again. All he wanted to do was retreat back into unconsciousness to escape the pain of being awake. Instead, he looked up and pulled his right hand, shaking the chain that was still there. HG shushed him. Artie felt horrible and yet he had a distinct lack of concern about it. He bowed his head, but before he closed his eyes, he saw the jacks on the floor in front of him. One glinted, making Artie grunt and whimper at the emotional pain that ripped at him deep in his chest.

He made himself talk, but couldn't manage coherent words. HG shushed him. She almost had one thick cuff open. "N…n… jacks… the jacks." Artie managed to say.

HG saw the jacks on the ground. With one sweep of her leg she kicked them all to the side. Artie made more incoherent noises, prompting HG to desperately try to hush him again as she went back to working on his shackle, but Artie continued until he eeked out, "N… no, behind you…."

Wells turned around at his warning and saw a sharp young man dressed all in black and aiming something large at her. HG put her hands up in surrender. "You don't have to do this." was all she got out before Ivan blew on the piece of wood that he pointed at her. Frost blew off the board, and inexplicably, into her.

A chill, colder than anything she had ever felt before, ran through HG. Instantly in shock, she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. The woman collapsed to the hard concrete floor, painfully contorting while her limbs froze.

Ivan calmly walked towards Artie, letting the artifact freeze HG from the inside out. Artie saw HG fall, cringing at the horrible sight of her freezing right in front of him. In that instant, crushing guilt crumpled his chest from the inside out. He gasped at the feeling, bowing slightly under the weight. HG writhed in pain, literally freezing a slow death because she tried to help him. Artie's face fell further into shadow, his eyes as hollow as he felt inside. He hung from the chains, unable to free himself, barely finding the motivation to breath.

HG's pale skin turned blue. Frost grew on her clothes and contrasted starkly against her jet black hair. She let out a cry of misery from the painful process. Her cries seemed to reach out to Artie, cutting through the darkness that weighed on him. He raised his eyes to her to see the smart and beautiful woman writing in pain. Guilt fell upon him again, but this time, Artie recognized the effects of the jacks. He used the guilt to fill what he was missing. Artie gulped a breath and held it, cringing as he got his feet under him.

Ivan watched the agent struggle, confidently waiting while Artie slowly pulled himself to his feet. "It takes a while." Ivan tilted his head to see the pain in Artie's face better. "I want to watch you- watch your friend die."

His soul already cracked and fractured, Artie lost his compassion. Suddenly, watching HG dying didn't affect him. The agent's heart seemed to be gone, only a hole of nothing left in him. His relied on his instincts, unable to hide his lack of concern, Artie leaned against a pillar and quietly shrugged, "Let her die. Sh- she means nothing to me." Even he was surprised by his words. He blinked, wondering how he was so calm. He didn't like nor trust HG, but she was obviously trying to help him, and was dying in front of him because of that. In an instant, Artie knew it was because of the jacks.

Ivan's eye brows went up in disbelief. "The woman who risked her life to save you?" An amused smile graced his lips, showing his charisma possible in different circumstances. "It is very dangerous to be your friend." He under emphasized, not knowing how true his words really were.

Artie was fed up with Ivan. He was going to just let HG die right here, for no reason. The youth's disregard for human life just made the old man mad. "What are you going to do? Ju- just kill people who have nothing to do with this?" It was a frustrated and desperate accusation.

Ivan didn't bite. He grinned his sickly sweet smile. "Don't worry. Her death with be quick." Ivan's face went deadly serious as he looked at his prisoners. "Not yours."

The agent's eyes went wide at Ivan's threat that he knew the Russian was going to carry out. As it was, Artie knew that he couldn't withstand much more abuse.

Then, a gun shot rang out. Artie's left hand fell down, no longer supported by the shackle. Both shocked men looked towards the noise. HG, who barely managed to hold her gun long enough to get off the shot, collapsed back to the floor.

Artie suddenly found that she shot the chain on his left arm, freeing it. With Ivan turned towards Wells, Artie fought for his life. He grunted, finding the strength to kick him, forcing the youth to the ground and sending the Titanic artifact skidding across the floor. Seizing the opportinuty, Artie grabbed the lock pick from his pocket and had the shackle open in record time, finally freeing himself. He let the pick drop to the floor when he was done with it to face Ivan.

The Russian got to his feet just to have Artie throw the cart of artifacts at him and send him flying. The agent knew that HG didn't have much time left before she died of hypothermia, so he went for the Titanic board to save her. Ivan growled and grabbed him from behind. Artie pushed and backed them up until he ran Ivan into a pole, loosening his grip. The agent turned and with his left hand, delivered a haymaker punch that laid Ivan out.

Quickly, Artie limped to HG with the Titanic artifact. He put his own pain aside and forced the artifact under one of her stiff arms to save her. "Ok, take it. Hold it tight. It's the only thing that will reverse it." HG's frozen fingers couldn't hold the board and she almost dropped it so he held her arms for her. "Hold it tight!" Artie encouraged. On the second attempt, HG grabbed the board and clung tighter than any Titanic survivor ever did.

Slowly, HG could breathe better as the effects were reversed. "You all right? Yeah… you're all right." Artie cringed from his injuries, but still, he rubbed her arms to help the warming process. He cradled her and helped her hold the board. As she thawed he said, "That was a good shot." He held up the shackle and chain that was still attached to his wrist. "Unless you were shooting Ivan."

The ice melted on the woman's clothes. Color slowly returned to her skin. HG swallowed, through trembling lips she said, "If I shot him, then you would still be chained there, and I would have frozen to death."

"Mm." Artie hummed. He had hoped that she didn't want to kill, but perhaps he gave her too much credit. "Good, good thinking."

As he held HG, Artie's back was to Ivan. The Russian slowly rose, wiping the blood from his lip. Quietly, he picked up an artifact from the ground where it fell off of the table. Artie was still reviving HG as Ivan raised his arms up. Ivan snarled and quickly brought his hands down. In his hands was an ancient knife hilt.

Artie's head reared up and he screamed. He fell forward, onto HG, grabbing his shoulder and trying to reach his back. His fingers came back wet with blood. Under him, HG and Artie's eyes met. They shared a look of fear.


	5. ThePhantom Blade of Eleanor of Aquitaine

**Thanks to everyone showing interest. It is certainly interesting trying to deal with this puzzle and finish this story of Ivan (Evan?) and Artie in Russia (as well as Wells!) **

**Love reviews, but thanks to those who also favorite, follow, and read. **

**I hope the symbology is not too much.**

**This is probably the worst chapter for torture. Please use discretion. **

**I have edited this slightly for a correction pointed out to me by a reader. Thanks and keep 'em coming.**

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><p><em>As he held HG, Artie's back was to Ivan. The Russian slowly rose, wiping the blood from his lip. Quietly, he picked up an artifact from the ground where it fell off of the table. Artie was still reviving HG as Ivan raised his arms up. Ivan focused on Artie's vulnerable, exposed back. He snarled and quickly brought his hands down. In his hands was an ancient knife hilt.<em>

_Artie's head reared up and he screamed. He fell forward, onto HG grabbing his shoulder, trying to reach his back. His fingers came back wet with blood. Under him, HG and Artie's eyes met. They shared a look of shocked fear. _

Artie left HG on the ground to face Ivan. Bleeding and hurt, he spun around and got to his feet quickly. The agent saw Ivan standing with an old knife hilt in his hand. There was only a bit of the original blade left in the handle, but Artie knew that the artifact didn't need a blade to kill him. Pain was streaking out across his back. He could feel blood falling, and knew that he only had moments left to act.

Sensing his chance, Artie charged. The agent's normal quickness was hampered by his dislocated foot and he got two steps when Ivan sliced the air in front of him. A sharp pain stopped him cold, making Artie cry out and grab at his chest. When he pulled his hand away, he was bleeding from a slash that went clean through his shirt and jacket. Breathless and loosing blood quickly, Artie's world started to fade around the edges. The agent struggled to stay upright. He focused, making his battered body take a step forward, for Claudia and Scott, to save HG who tried to save him, and for Ivan. Another step and his leg gave out, simply not able to carry him any further. He sunk to his knees. "Ivan…"

Ivan took a step towards Artie. His soul was corrupted by Torquemada's chain and chipped from the jacks. Nothing existed for him besides that moment. He didn't care for the man in front of him, or himself, or anything. There's was no feeling left in Ivan except hate and hurt. He used that hurt to fill the empty space in him, wanting to feel something. Watching his father's old business contact finally falling fed the hate in Ivan. The hate was better than the hurt, so Ivan clung to it, following where it took him. Enjoying the torture, the Russian slowly pulled the knife hilt downwards while staring at the old man. Artie cringed, then screamed as his shirt tore open with the knife's motion. Under his shirt, a thick streak of red was carved into his chest that crossed the slash mark at the top.

The youth raised his head in satisfaction. Artie swayed. He looked down at the marks carved into his skin. Ivan enlightened him. "'T.' For traitor."

Artie groaned. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt but the stab wound on his back radiated such blinding pain that it took over Artie's mind until it dominated his thoughts. Pain and despair and blood loss piled upon each other, finally crushing him. He fell to his hands and knees, still trying to fight as he could. Ivan's chest rose and fell faster as he watched Artie succumb. He took another step closer. Artie's vision blurred and he started to shake as his body failed him; his hands going cold. He called out to Ivan again. The old agent gasped, his eyes showing misery and sorrow that became worse than the pain. "Alexi, I'm so sorry." Ivan blinked, processing what he was saying. Artie still struggled even as he felt blood running down his arm. "I didn't save him Alexi. I failed you… again." He whimpered as his last fighting breath left him.

Artie fell to the concrete floor sideways. Behind him, HG Wells was revealed pointing the Titanic board at Ivan. The Russian barely had time to be surprised when she blew the freezing artifact at him. Ivan sucked in cold and ice of the harshest of Russian winters right into his core from the artifact. He instantly turned blue and a moment later he too fell to the hard floor.

HG watched Ivan fall before she rushed up to Artie. She looked him over. He was laying on his side, bleeding from a few places, but mostly from a large stab wound in his back. She took some of the fabric from his jacket and pressed it into the wound. "Artie, just… hold on." Even she knew that was a stupid thing to say to a dying man, but it was the best she could think of.

Just when HG started thinking of her own story that she would have to tell Myka and the rest of the Warehouse about how Artie died, she heard voices. The author looked up with sudden hope. "Myka! Pete! Over here! Come quickly!" Artie groaned softly at her shouts. "They're coming Artie. You're going to be fine."

HG heard Artie struggling to say something. She leaned into him, putting her ear down to hear him. "You can't- can't help me. S-save Ivan. HG, save him... please... I-I can't. S-save Ivan."

The author sat back blinking as she kept pressure on Artie's back, hardly believing what he was asking of her. HG Wells had seen death before she she knew that it was coming for Artie. But instead of trying to save a few moments of his life, he wanted her to save the man who did this to him, a murder who killed two other people. The lady glanced at Ivan writhing as cold froze him from the inside out. She remembered the pain that she was in from the same artifact and she decided that it was a death that he deserved. HG would be the one to see that he died in as much pain as those that he killed. Not everyone could make the hard decisions necessary to deliver justice, but she could and she would. She was the one who blew the Titanic artifact at Ivan, and she would be the one who watched him die.

The Warehouse supervisor's blood stained her hands, in spite of her efforts to stop it. HG pushed harder against Artie's wound, ending him asking her to save Ivan with a cringe. He attempted to talk again, but Myka and Pete ran up to them just then. Both agents made sure that Ivan wasn't a threat, then rushed to help HG and Artie.

"What happened?" Pete asked. He helped HG put pressure on the wound, making Artie shift and whimper at the intense pain.

"Ivan stabbed him, with that." HG nodded to the disintegrating old knife hilt.

Myka knelt in front of Artie. Pete looked at the fragment of knife left in the handle. "Is the blade in him?"

HG said, "It never touched him." She didn't have time for Pete's confused look, so she ignored it. They all knew it was artifact related.

Myka put her hand on her boss and quickly bent down to him. "Artie, Artie we're here." She wasn't sure that he could hear her, so she held his hand and squeezed it to let him know she was there. Myka's worried expression deepened when she felt how cold his hand was and how it trembled.

Artie slowly licked his lips. Now that his agents were there, he had to rethink the situation, quickly and while he still could. But his mind was muddled with pain and he could barely move. If he could just get the artifact... The old man's breaths were short and rapid. It seemed to him like a cold black cloud was materializing to cover him, blocking out his vision and floating him off of the hard floor. Artie clutched Myka's hand through the haze. He fought off the dark to get a message to her. "Myka… Pete- the knife. Get the knife to Pete. Myka… " His words ended in a groan when a tremor ran through him.

"Ok. Ok Artie, I got it." Myka looked at her partner. "He wants you to get the knife."

Pete grabbed the knife hilt quickly. "Ok. Knife."

Myka bent down to Artie again. "He got it Artie. Now what?" But she saw that he was motionless and his eyes were closed. Heart suddenly in her throat, she shook him. "Artie?" Her boss didn't respond nor move at all. Myka had never seen Artie so still and it scared her. She almost lost it when his cold fingers that gripped her hand slowly relaxed. Holding back her emotions, she had to look at Pete and HG and shake her head.

HG blinked numbly. She couldn't come this close only to lose again.

But Pete, never the one to give up said, "What do we do?" He looked from HG, who was staring at the blood slipping through her fingers, to his partner. "Myka?" His partner turned red rimmed eyes to him and that told Pete more than words could. "We can't… we can't lose Artie." He said in a small voice.

"Pete…" Myka looked down at her boss, able to read just some of the trauma that he had been through, and she could read a lot. He was in terrible condition. His face was pale, yet marked up and bleeding, and his shirt was stained and ripped and sliced. The hand that she held was bruised to the point of bleeding around the wrist. She could tell that HG was upset and doing her best to tend to the wound in his back, but it was still spreading a puddle across the floor.

"Pete. I don't think… " She couldn't bring herself to admit to Pete, and to herself, that Artie wasn't going to make it.


	6. Perspectives

**Well, that was fun. **

**Onward****.**

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><p>Three current and former agents knelt around the unconscious and dying Warehouse supervisor, oblivious to the outside country of Russia around them, or the man freezing to death not far from them; the one that caused the entire situation.<p>

For them, time slowed to a crawl. The two partners had to accept a reality that they both were refusing to believe. Pete was stunned. A tear fell down his face and he made no move to hide it. His strong features were tight with misery. Myka barely stopped back tears from her red rimmed eyes. She still held Artie's frigid hand, not wanting to leave him, even if he wasn't aware of it. Even HG sat in silence. They all waited for the inevitable.

Then, Pete sucked in a breath. "Whoa. Something's happening here Mykes." He was looking at the old hilt and holding it tightly.

HG said, "What's happening?"

"I don't know! But something!" he repeated.

All three of them glanced at each other, and then at Artie hopefully. Seconds passed but his eyes stayed closed. Myka felt Artie's limp wrist. She tried to swallow with a dry throat. She said softly, "I can't… he- he barely has a pulse."

Pete had started shaking his head in denial when HG exclaimed. "Sight!"

The partners looked at her. Still holding pressure to Artie's wound she blinked rapidly. "I remember doing research for this artifact from Warehouse 12, belonged to a queen-" she got right to the point. "It had to be in view of the queen. You have to _see_ the injury to heal it!"

Myka looked to Pete, but he was already moving to bend down and pull HG away to look at the stab wound. "Ok, sight. I'm looking at it…" Pete gripped the artifact for all he was worth until flakes of rotting iron bore into his palm. "Come on artifact magic!"

Another second passed. Myka tilted her head and then she pointed at the floor. Her mouth opened for a moment before anything came out. "Peeete…."

"I know! I know!" Pete said excitedly, refusing to glance away. They could both see that the pool of blood was reducing in size. Within a few seconds all of it was inexplicably reversing it's course and flowing into the wound in Artie's back. Even the blood that covered the agents' hands was whisked through the air and disappeared into the stab wound. HG held up her hand in amazement of the process until every speck of red was gone. They watched Artie's jacket return to it's original brown color as the dark blood was drawn out of it. Myka bent down to Artie. She didn't see a change so looked at Pete to see if the wound was healed.

"I see it. Yeah. It, it's good." Pete said with a sigh at seeing the flesh healed. He gave a serious look to his partner that told her that the artifact worked.

Myka got the message, but Artie hadn't woken yet. "Help me turn him over." She pushed Artie's shoulder and with the help of Pete and HG, they rolled their boss to his back.

The motion got Artie to stir. He groaned, then jerked awake, opening his eyes suddenly. He got only as far as lifting his head before Myka, HG and the pain from his own body kept him on the ground. Pete rounded Artie who was looking around and getting his bearings, utterly confused. "Wha…? Wha-" His foggy brown eyes found Wells. "HG, did- Ivan?" He lost the rest of his words and devolved into unintelligible noises.

HG and Myka held Artie down by the shoulders. Myka looked at HG, "What is he talking about?"

HG hesitated the smallest of moments. It was obvious that Artie wasn't in any kind of condition to comunicate. She averted her eyes when she told Myka, "I have no idea."

Myka pushed her questions to the side. She ordered, "Artie, just hold still." He, for once, didn't put up much of a fight. The old man sighed and his head fell back, unfortunately, directly onto the hard concrete floor with a hollow thunk. Artie registered the additional pain with an unamused grunt.

Myka let go of her boss to quickly take off her khaki trench coat. She shot her partner a look of concern and roughly folded the coat to shove under Artie's head.

"Ok, one more time artifact." Pete gripped the old handle as hard as he could and stared.

HG easily pulled open Artie's sliced shirt as it was already missing several buttons. Artie cringed as they all watched the "T" that Ivan carved in his skin slowly suck the blood back up his chest and from his clothes. It was fortunate that Artie was being restrained because he was sickened by the sight. He turned his head away and moaned, his eyes crossed and the room spun when the slices resealed themselves. His headed thudded to the ground again, this time saved from further trauma by Myka's jacket.

The skin on the left side of Artie's chest returned to it's normal state, Pete sighed and slumped, somehow drained. Seeing that Artie was no longer bleeding to death, he raised his head. Pete nodded beyond them. "Hey, what about that guy?" Pete motioned to Ivan, pale blue, almost lifeless. Only the small white clouds made by his breath gave away the fact the he was still alive.

They all turned to look, but Artie's eyes snapped open. "Ivan!" He bolted up, or tried to, cringing from his injuries, falling to an elbow and grabbing at his bruised ribs. Crawling, he grabbed the Titanic artifact from near HG's feet, giving her a wilting look. He knew that she could have saved Ivan if she had chosen to, they both knew that she knew how the artifact worked. Artie scampered to Ivan's side, helped by Myka, but still having to swallow a cry of pain that moving quickly caused.

He forced the board under Ivan's stiff arm. "Take it. It's the only way to reverse the effects. Take the board!" The Russian, even though he was dying, refused. "Ivan…." Artie begged, but Ivan didn't take the artifact. Unable to talk, and barely able to move, Ivan weakly pushed the board away. He stared at Artie so that he could watch Ivan, Alexander's son, die in front of him.

The action wasn't lost on Artie. His eyes flicked side to side, thinking, but not emotional. He briefly wondered why he wasn't more upset, and then his face lit up. He turned quickly, burying the reaction resulting from the movement that he didn't have time for. Artie waved a hand, pointing. "Ah, the chain." His agents looked around, but it was Myka who jumped up first. "Myka, Myka, neutralize the chain, quick!"

Myka pulled a neutralizing bag and a purple glove from her pockets. She grabbed the cursed artifact chain with the folded glove and dropped it into the bag resulting in a shower of bright sparks that she ducked away from.

Artie looked back to Ivan, hoping that neutralizing Torquemada's chain would negate the infecting of his soul and let him feel emotions again. Forcing the Titanic board into his arms again, Artie ordered, "Ivan, take it. Please!" The agent looked into Ivan's eyes, ones that held so much hurt. "Not for me. Live for your father- for you." But Ivan kept his arms wrapped around him, not allowing the agent to give him the board. Artie saw him turn not bluer, but actually white as Ivan's skin literally started to freeze solid. The old and battered agent started to panic. His quick mind raced for some idea, any idea to convince Ivan to save himself. He reached far in the back in his own life to his own Russian connections. Suddenly, an old Russian saying leapt to his mind as eerily appropriate. Artie swallowed then said to Ivan, "Net pytok ni odna nauka." He waited a long second. Both men heard the literal translation of 'without torture, no science', meaning that adversity is a good teacher. Artie hoped that Ivan could find something to pull out of the dark place that he had gone; that the old, familiar saying would help Ivan find something positive from this experience.

The youth, so close to death, stopped fighting Artie. Artie looked down, barely feeling Ivan's small movements. He pressed the board into Ivan's arms and didn't feel him resisting. "Take it. Hold it." A moment passed before the agents saw a change. Then, the blue color started to fade. Artie sighed, vastly relieved. "Hold it tight." He repeated the orders that he told HG minutes before. That thought made Artie glare at Wells, trying to show his displeasure of her, with his bloody face and all. The old agent knew that she might have helped to save his life, but she also didn't save Ivan's when she could have. He knew that she would have let him freeze to death if he had not taken the artifact from her.

Artie would not forget that.


	7. Making Choices

**As always, thanks to all who read and especially to those who review, for better or worse, it's fun to get some feedback. **

**So we have some clean up here, but there's progress to be made with the story as well. Just hang with me a few chapters to develop the story. This starts the "what happened next" part that they just left out of the episode. I mean, do we know what happened to Ivan? They just left that hanging. Well, here is my idea of what they did after what we saw on the show happened. **

**I am certainly up for other suggestions, I have just not heard any other ideas.**

As the Titanic artifact undid its effects on Ivan, the agents started to stir. HG rose, dusting herself off and working her newly thawed joints out. Myka checked on Pete, who nodded to answer her questioning glance. He still leaned against one of the pillars that formerly imprisoned Artie as if out of energy, but he held out the artifact hilt for his partner to bag.

Myka then turned her attention to Artie and Ivan. She blinked, then steeled herself as she pulled out her handcuffs.

Artie, still holding the board to Ivan, held up his other hand to her. "Wait, wait…"

"Artie, he killed two men!" Myka said emotionally. "Including Dickinson." She said quietly, but not without resolve.

Speechless for once, or perhaps worn down, Artie licked his lips and nodded. Before Ivan could thaw out completely, Myka clipped her handcuffs around his wrist, then the other end around a thick pipe nearby.

Suspect secured, Myka evaluated the area. She focused on the threat of artifacts needing to be neutralized. But in her scan, she saw Artie looking dazed. His eyes were moving rapidly, showing him thinking, but there was a darkness under his eyes that shadowed his entire face. More than that, Artie seemed to be always moving, but just then he looked incredibly tired. Myka thought that made sense, considering what he went through, but something told her it was more than just physical pain that kept her boss uncharacteristically subdued.

She eyed him carefully. "Artie? Are you ok?"

The old man looked up. He took a breath, feeling an emptiness in his chest. His eyes and then his jaw opened when it hit him. "Myka! The, the jacks." He tried to look for the scattered artifacts.

The thin agent looked around. "Myka!" Pete pointed to one that he found. He started towards the artifact, but being unstable, Myka pushed him back to lean on the table.

"Pete. Stay."

"Ok." Pete went back to leaning with no resistance.

Myka bent down and carefully picked up the dangerous artifact jack.

"Careful…careful!" Artie warned.

A neutralizer bag at the ready, Myka hummed a slight annoyance at her boss's unneeded warning. Before she could drop it, the jack seemed to reflect a sort of odd green color. The change caught Myka's eye. As she watched the green flashed again. Then, a sadness, like a storm cloud blocking out the sun, fell over Myka. Her insides felt empty, as if her heart was suddenly gone; like all of her joy was removed all at once. A small groan escaped her parted lips.

"Myka, neutralize it!" Artie yelled, struggling unsuccessfully to get to his feet.

"Drop it!" Pete encouraged.

Seeing her in trouble, HG was just starting towards Myka to neutralize the artifact herself when Myka came to her senses. She raised sad eyes to HG, their gaze connecting for a moment. Helena lips parted with sympathy at seeing such a deep sorrow in Myka's green eyes. But then, Myka blinked. She looked at the neutralizer bag in her hand, and dropped the jack into it. Sparks flew making the agent turn away from the light show.

Myka sighed and swallowed. She felt like her heart was back in place again, thumping away.

"Myka? You ok?" Pete asked.

Myka tore her eyes away from HG, who she had been gazing at, to look at him, her eyes full and normal again. "Yeah. I'm fine." She said to Artie, "That's some artifact."

Her boss tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow from where he still sat on the floor in a "tell me about it" look. "There's more." He waved an arm around then tried to get up. "Pete, Myka… ah- six- uh five more." His efforts ended in a whimper and him easing himself back to sit down.

HG piped up. "Here's one." She directed Myka to a jack that the agent neutralized. "I swept them all in this direction when I found Artie." _There. Now I know that you know_. she thought.

Myka and HG spread out to find the remaining four jacks. HG found another one, then Pete pointed one out. Myka bagged them and one more as well. The hunt continued for a few more minutes until Myka found the last jack.

With all of the artifact jacks neutralized, Myka turned back to check on Artie, Pete, and the prisoner, Ivan. Pete was recovered. He had on his purple gloves and was neutralizing artifacts that were on the small table. Ivan was sitting down on the ground, still clutching the Titanic artifact. He appeared dazed, starting into the distance. Artie looked better. His coloring returned to normal, and the rings under his eyes had reduced dramatically. He was moving better, but still not able to get to his feet quite yet.

"Artie, just stay there. HG can you-" Myka turned to find the mysterious woman gone. The agent looked for a moment, regretting not keeping track of the woman better, and not saying several things that she wanted to when she was there.

Pete grabbed his boss's arm and helped pull Artie to his feet who grunted and complained from the effort. Seeing HG gone, Artie said, "Not surprising. That woman-"

"Saved your life." Myka inserted forcibly. Pete, supporting Artie, gave his partner a cautious look which only annoyed Myka. Her patience was short, considering the situation they were in. She was also starting to realize how much she enjoyed having the mysterious and famous HG Wells around.

"Look. Artie. I don't know what you have against her, I'm just saying that HG helped us find you. She got to you first and she helped us."

"SHE was here for herself!" Artie found the energy to yell, but stopped when his side objected to the full breath. He grabbed at his ribs and clung to Pete. Quieter, but no less agitated, he added. "HG is a woman who works with her own motives in mind. No one else's! She was here for herself, not for me!" The old man was held up by Pete who looked miserable and caught in the middle of the fight.

"Artie, she saved your life!" Myka blurted out. That news made her boss stop and stare at her. "When you were…" She had to take a breath to compose herself, but wasn't able to stop her voice from cracking. "Artie, you were dying. Pete and I…" The agent stopped just short of admitting their helplessness. "HG was the one that told us how the knife worked. Without her…" Myka paused to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't been here."

"it's true Artie." Pete chimed in, getting a harsh glare in return. "I'm just saying, she did help us find you."

Out numbered and worn down, Artie limped. "She is not to be trusted. That's Final!" He yelled, ending Myka's protests.

Anxious to change the subject, Pete again asked, "What about that guy?" The three agents turned to look at Ivan.

Myka walked up beside Pete, with Artie between them. "Are we going to take him back with us?" She asked. It was the only thing she could think of in a country where they didn't have the support of the government.

Artie sighed, thinking hard. "No." The old boss straightened up, grimacing at the pain from his back, but actively ignoring it. "He stays here."

Myka frowned. "Artie, we can't just leave him here."

"Not 'here'." Artie clarified. He looked to Ivan. "He's staying in Russia."

"We're letting him go?" Pete said incrediously. "Artie, this guy killed Dickenson!"

"I Know!" Artie yelled, trying hard to keep his breaths short, but failing and grunting. "We're not letting him go. We'll leave him with someone." He looked to his agents. "Just- we need to find out where."

Myka tilted her head. She had crossed her arms over her bright pink blouse to ward off a chill after giving up her jacket. "Claudia can dig up some information on him maybe?"

"There's easier ways." Pete said. He made sure Artie was ok on his own, then walked up to Ivan. "Where's your wallet?" Pete asked directly. Ivan stared at Pete. For a moment, Pete wondered if he was going to put up a struggle, but the Russian just stared at him. "Oh come on, I know you hablo Ingles!"

Ivan squinted his eyes in confusion at Pete's Spanish. But he shook his head a bit and motioned to his back pocket. "It's there." Pete bent down and pulled out a very worn leather wallet out.

Pete gave an amused look as he waved the wallet at his partner as if he accomplished some great thing. "Ah ha? Ok... he lives at..." He opened the walled and pulled out an id to look at it for along second. Myka and Artie waited, then glanced at each other with no confidence in Pete. Pete blurted out, "I have no idea. It's in Russian."

"Give me it." Artie scowled, holding up a hand for the id. He snapped it up and looked it it, tilting his head down out of habit to look over his glasses that he didn't have. "108 yugo ulitsa. Come on, we can check the map on the way." Artie started for the exit, but cringed and limped when he put weight on his dislocated foot.

"Artie, just wait a second." Pete grabbed two neutralizer bags full of artifacts. He had to grab one bag from the bottom because the weight from Torquemada's chain was starting to rip the bag. Pete readjusted and hurried up to his boss's side. Artie let his agent grab his elbow to help him walk. Myka unhooked Ivan from the pipe and secured his other hand behind his back. She grabbed the Titanic artifact, her jacket, and the other neutralizer bag, using her free hand to pull Ivan along to follow her partner.


End file.
